What Big Brothers Are For
by HeidiBug731
Summary: Ron Weasley opened his mouth and wailed, as he hadn't done since he was less than a year old. But then, if your teddy bear had suddenly grown six extra legs and several more eyes, you'd cry like a baby too. Written post DH.


For Maggie, as part of her Christmas present.

Written for Reviews Lounge collaboration challenge "All I Want for Christmas." Go check it out.

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Ron Weasley opened his mouth and wailed, as he hadn't done since he was less than a year old. But then, if your teddy bear had suddenly grown six extra legs and several more eyes, you'd cry like a baby too.

It was only fair, Fred thought. He'd told his younger brother not to touch his broomstick. But the little bugger hadn't listened and now it was in pieces. Their mom would be able to fix Ron's teddy bear; she hadn't been able to fix his broom.

So while three-year-old Ron Weasley wailed and cried, their mother demanded their father's wand back from Fred and sent him to his room. She then set Ron's bear right again before going upstairs to talk with Fred.

"You know better than to steal daddy's wand when he's had a long day of work and falls asleep."

"I'm sorry," said Fred.

"If it happens again, Fred Weasley, I'll jinx your hands together."

Fred twisted his arms around each other as though to see what it might be like. There was a look of concentration on his face like he was trying to figure out how he could get his father's wand with his arms coiled in that way.

Molly Weasley shook her head and let it slide. There were more pressing matters. "That wasn't a very nice thing to do to Ron's bear."

"It wasn't a very nice thing for him to break my broom," said Fred, unraveling his arms suddenly.

"That was an accident, Freddie. He didn't mean to break it."

"I told him not to touch it. It wasn't very nice of him to touch it when I told him not to."

"No, no it wasn't," she said, "but he was very sorry about breaking it and he apologized, just like I want you to go apologize to him."

Fred crossed his arms in a very five-year-old way and shook his head.

"Freddie-"

"No."

When he continued to refuse, his mother told him he could stay in the room until he was ready to apologize. Usually time away from his twin was agonizing for Fred, but his hard, hot self-assurance that he had been in the right this time kept him company until it was time for bed and George was able to join him once again.

Fred lay in bed, pretending to be asleep. He listened to George fumble around as he dressed himself in his pajamas before getting into the twin-size bed beside Fred's. Sometimes, when they weren't ready to go to sleep (which was often), they would push the beds together and pretend they were pirates sailing on a ship in uncharted waters during a thunderstorm. This would usually entail one of them getting thrown overboard by the churning waves. The one left on the ship would throw the life persevere into the water and cheer for their twin to swim for it. At this point, the great sea goddess would rise up out of the stormy sea. The child would try as hard as he could, flailing around franticly on the floor as he struggled to reach the pillow his twin had discarded, but the sea goddess would always reach the child, swallowing him and his pillow in her arms. She'd place him into bed, and tell them both to be quite or else she'd whisk one of them away to spend the night with the landlubber, Percival, before disappearing back into the dark, watery depths of the ocean.

But there were no pirate games tonight.

"Fred," said George, and his voice was as serious as a five-year-old's could be, "Ron was really sad."

"He broke my broom."

"He won't play with his bear, Fred."

Fred rolled over in his bed to face his twin.

"Mum fixed it, but he won't play with it. He looked scared of it."

"He's just being a baby." Fred rolled back over, signaling the end of the conversation.

But George had been right; Fred's prank had shaken Ron. He had loved that bear. He had eaten with it, slept with it, played with it, their mom had drawn the line at bathing with it, but it had sat in the room with him . . . and when he hadn't had it, he'd cried. It had been like a best friend to him. He had taken it with him everywhere. But now the bear lay abandoned in the corner where Ron had left it three days ago after his mom had fixed it, and he would not go near it. He gave it fearful looks whenever it was in his range of vision, as though he thought it might suddenly sprout extra legs and eyeballs again.

"Ron," said Fred when he noticed his brother staring at his forsaken playmate, "you want your bear?" Fred picked the bear up and carried it clumsily across the room. He stopped when Ron began to whimper and back away. "Don't cry, Ron. It's your bear." Fred held it out, but his brother began to whimper harder and only when Ron was close to tears did Fred put the bear back in the corner.

Something wasn't right, Fred knew that. He had only wanted to get back at Ron, not scar him for life. And now he felt terrible. He'd been really hurt when his broom had snapped, but he'd be getting a new one for Christmas - he'd asked his mom about it. Ron, on the other hand, had asked for a ball, and a ball just wasn't the same as a bear.

"Mum?" Fred asked her the next day. "Can I change what I said I wanted for Christmas . . . again?"

His mother looked at him. He looked at the floor, grasped his hands behind his back, and started twisting his body from left to right, as five-year-olds sometimes do.

"I thought you wanted a broom, Fred, to replace the one that broke."

Fred shook his head, still twisting back and forth. "I want a teddy bear."

"A teddy bear."

Fred nodded.

"Like Ron's?" she asked.

"Yeah-no." He stopped twisting and looked up at her. "A different bear. A bear with darker fur and different eyes and . . . just a different one, a very different one."

"A different bear," she said. "You're sure, Fred? You don't want a broom?"

"No broom," he said. "A teddy bear. I want a teddy bear."

"Well . . . okay," she said slowly. "As long as you're sure."

Fred nodded.

When Christmas finally did come, Fred was happy to find his mother had listened to him. He pulled his gift out from under the tree and unwrapped a bear completely different from his younger brother's. The bear's fur was black instead of light brown, and its eyes were brown instead of light blue. It was second hand like Ron's bear, but it also had both its eyes instead of just one. One of its ears was missing, but that was fine because Ron's bear had both of them.

He hugged his mom and thanked her for it, saying that it was perfect, and then he dashed upstairs before he had the chance to watch anyone else unwrap their gifts.

He sat in Ron's room and waited for his brother. Ron eventually arrived, awkwardly carrying his new blue bouncy ball in his arms - it was nearly as big as he was. He paused when he entered, and he looked up at his brother curiously.

"Happy Christmas, Ron," said Fred. He walked up to his brother and held out the bear. "It's yours."

Ron looked at the bear, not with fear but with suspicion. "Why?"

"Because I'm your big brother," said Fred, rotating the bear in his hands, "and big brothers are supposed to take care of their younger brother, and I didn't do that. I shouldn't have scared you, Ron. That's not what big brothers are for. And I'm sorry." He held out the bear again.

Ron stared at it for a moment, then he dropped his ball and hugged Fred, the bear squished in between them. "Tank you, Fwed."

Fred held his younger brother until Ron let go of him. The bear slipped from between them and dropped to the ground. Ron grabbed it by the arm and dragged it across the floor like he had done with his old bear, the bouncy ball forgotten by the door. Fred left the room feeling rather pleased with himself.

"Fred, there you are!" George came scampering down the hall toward him. He was holding something behind his back. ". . . What happened to your bear?"

"It's Ron's bear."

George looked confused.

"I broke Ron's bear, so I got him a new one."

"Oh," said George, "well, I got you a new one too." He moved his hands from behind his back and presented Fred with a new broomstick.

"That's mine?" said Fred.

George nodded. "Mom said you changed what you wanted for Christmas, so I changed what I wanted too."

"Why?" asked Fred.

"Well, who am I going to play Quidditch with if you don't have broom?"

Fred smiled. "Thanks, George."

So Fred took the broom, and he and his twin played a five-year-old's version of Quidditch in the living room under their father's watchful gaze. And when he fell asleep watching them, Fred took his wand and he and George ran off to see what they could charm with it next.


End file.
